The girl looked. "Do I know you?"
"I am Clio, the Muse of History, and this is Sherlock of the Black Wave. We seem to have been directed to come here. How did you get caught on this island?"
"It's embarrassing," Surprise said. "We were boating, when the boatsman abruptly dumped us here and fled. Will you take us to land?"
"Of course. But why did he ground you?"
"That's complicated to explain. We were looking for a nice private place to—to be alone, when—"
"You wanted to $$$$," the child said, smiling.
There was a brief silence as Clio's teeth tried to drop out of their sockets and Surprise's face blushed halfway into her hair. Umlaut looked totally out of sorts, and Sherlock made an effort to blanch. None of them had heard such a word spoken that baldly before, by one so young.
Sherlock was the first to attempt a recovery. "When you encountered this child?" he inquired.
"Yes," Surprise said, her voice strained. "She seemed to be stranded on this isle, and was crying, so we stopped and got off the boat to comfort her and inquire where her mother was. And she said—"
"****," the child said, laughing merrily. It was a thoroughly brutish term, well into the Adult Conspiracy if not somewhat beyond it. There was a little clump of flowers on the island; they keeled over, wilting.
"And the boatsman paddled away," Surprise managed to say though her throat was evidently constricted by the awfulness of the word that had just rammed its way into the dialog.
Now Clio understood why. Anyone caught in the vicinity of such an utterance was in peril of befoulment. There might as well have been ghastlies attacking. The man had fled.
"I think I know this child's talent," Sherlock said. "She is immune to the Adult Conspiracy."
"Her family must have been overwhelmed," Clio said. "So they left her here, hoping never to see her again."
"I don't even know those words," Surprise said. "But they burn my skin." She was two years under the age of induction into the Conspiracy, though obviously that was becoming academic because of her current exposure to the forbidden words.
Sherlock squatted down beside the little girl. "What is your name?"
"Ciriana," she replied cheerfully.
"That's a nice name."
The girl turned shy. She seemed to be normal, except for her vocabulary.
"It's a curse," Clio said. "I understand about them. It's not her fault."
"Obviously she can't live with a normal family," Sherlock said. "Those words she has learned are dangerous around other children, and not very comfortable for most adults."
"But we can't just leave her here," Surprise said.
"It seems we have a problem," Clio said. It was evidently hers to solve, somehow. "Sherlock, do you think reverse wood would reverse her curse?"
"Only while actually touching her," he said. "That's the case with your magic, we found."
"Well, maybe she could keep a chip with her."
A chip appeared in his hand. "Ciriana, hold this."
The girl took it, trustingly.
"Now repeat one of those words you just said."
Her smile became a sneer. "Sweet violets!" Then she burst into tears.
Sherlock nodded. He took back the chip, and the girl's smile returned. "The wood reverses the language, but also her disposition. I think she's better off smiling."
Clio had to agree. "Surprise, it's early for you to be exposed to the Adult Conspiracy, but I think necessary in this case. You will simply have to learn to tolerate certain ugly words without freaking out."
"I think I can manage," Surprise said.
"%%%%," Ciriana said sweetly.
Umlaut managed to catch Surprise before she hit the ground.
Something needed to be done. "Surprise, you have every talent once and only once," Clio said when the girl recovered.
"Yes. That's why I try not to use them. I may need them later and I don't want to run out."
"This is nonsensical," Sherlock said. "You won't run out."
"But each talent is permanently gone once I use it."
"Consider this: there is an infinite variety of each talent. Suppose you fly: you can do it by floating, or by making yourself light, or by generating a wind to blow you upward, or by invoking antigravity, or by forming an invisible platform to stand on. If you make yourself light, there must be countless ways to do it: by decreasing the mass of your body, or by making your body repel the ground, or be attracted to the sky, or some combination of those. Only your imagination limits your ability to fly. The same is true for other kinds of magic. If you want to be strong, there is giant strength, ogre strength, dragon strength, and so on. You can't run out unless you lose your ability to think of new variants."
As he spoke, Surprise's jaw slowly dropped. So did Umlaut's. And Clio's. Sherlock was right: there would not be time enough in Surprise's life to use up all the possible variants of her talents.
"Oh, you've given me back my talent!" Surprise said, planting a kiss on him. "I don't have to conserve anymore!"
"Just conserve the easiest ways, for emergencies," he said, standing a little unsteady from the kiss. Kisses had that effect; it was inherent in their nature, like panties only less so. "Use the more difficult variants for routine situations."
"I will!"
"Now conjure a bell of partial silence for Ciriana. One that blots out only bad adult words. So we can't hear them."
"Yes!" A translucent hat appeared on Ciriana's head, reaching down around her face."
"-----" the child said. It was working.
"That's fine, dear," Clio said. "We'll take care of you." For this was a stopgap measure; they still had to figure out a permanent one.
"What about Lethe Elixir?" Umlaut asked. "So she'll forget the bad words."
"That should help," Clio agreed. "I happen to know where there's a small lethe spring not far distant."
"Then the only problem will be preventing her from hearing them again," Surprise said.
"True. But let's go to the lethe first. Meanwhile we can ponder subsequent measures."
Surprise, Umlaut, and Ciriana got into the boat, and Sherlock and Umlaut paddled them in the direction Clio indicated. They made fair progress physically, but less in finding a permanent solution.
The lethe spring was a small offshoot that had gotten lost from its parent spring some time ago; evidently it had forgotten its home, being what it was, and wandered to the Region of Water. It was on another island that local folk knew better than to visit. The thing about lethe water was that it caused forgetting, and the more of it one was exposed to, the worse the loss of memory. A single drop could make a person forget a single word; a deep drink could make a person forget his own identity.
They reached the island. "This water is dangerous," Clio said. "Therefore only Ciriana and I should go to the spring."
"I insist on accompanying you," Sherlock said. "So you won't forget me." He smiled, but his concern was clearly serious.
"I insist you don't," she said. "So you are in no danger of forgetting me"
He spread his hands, yielding. "But if you don't return soon, I will investigate."
"Do," she agreed. She took Ciriana by the hand and led her along the path to the spring. "Now I will sprinkle a drop of water on you and speak a word. You will forget that word. Then I will do it for another word, until all the bad ones are gone. Then you won't have to be concerned about freaking out other children."
"Okay," the girl agreed amicably.
"Now tell me the other bad words you know."
"@@@@. &&&&. ," Ciriana said sweetly.
Clio's vision turned flaming red and the sky seemed to wobble. Grass along the path died. To make it worse, Clio would have to repeat those words to abolish them. She wasn't sure her tongue could manage it without blistering. But she would have to try.
"Where did you learn such words?" she asked when her equilibrium cleared somewhat.
"A nice har
py roosted on a tree behind our house. I used to talk with her. She taught me a lot of great stuff."
That figured. "Please don't talk with harpies anymore."
"Okay."
Then it occurred to her that the harpy might have shared more than words. "Dear, what do you know of stork summoning?"
"I know all about it," Ciriana said proudly. "First the mommy and daddy take off their clothes. Then she lies down on the bed, and he—"
"That will do, dear. I'm sure you do have it straight." Clio was blushing already. They were lucky the little girl hadn't thought to try it herself. Yet.
"Person ahead," Drew reported. "His name is Joe."
She had forgotten the dragon. It was as though the very proximity of the lethe spring was affecting her awareness. "Thank you."
They came to the spring. Joe was there, about to dip out a cup of water.
"Joe!" she called. "Don't drink that water! It will make you forget!"
"But I'm thirsty," Joe called back.
"Any other water will do. Just not this water. Please move away from the spring."
"All right," Joe agreed. He started walking away from it, down the path toward her, still holding the cup.
Clio stepped to the side, but Joe stepped the same way. So she stepped the other way, but he did also, at the same time. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "It's my talent."
"Your talent?"
"Always being in the way."
"Oh. Then you stand still, and I will go around you."
"Sure." He stood still.
She stepped around him, but though he did not move, she somehow bumped into him. The water in the cup splashed out. She had thought he had been about to dip; it seemed he had already dipped. Before she could react, the water soaked her.
She forgot everything.
Then she remembered. Sherlock was there. "Come away from here," he said, guiding her.
"What happened? I was about to—" She felt her wet shirt. "In fact I—"
"I reversed it," he said.
"Oh, with reverse wood. Thank you. I was in danger of losing my memory!" She gazed somewhat dazedly around. "Drew! Where—?"
"I wasn't splashed," the little dragon said. "I summoned Sherlock, and he came to rescue you."
But she wasn't sure this made complete sense. She had been dosed with lethe water, and should have forgotten everything. So how could she remember? Reverse wood might enable her to remember new things, but the old things should have been permanently obliterated.
"He touched you, and your memories came back," Drew said.
She would have thought that impossible, but obviously she did have her memories back. Maybe the lethe had not been full strength. "That young man, Joe—"
"He reversed too," Drew said. "Now his talent is never getting in the way. In fact he's out of the way now."
"But lethe couldn't do that!"
"It didn't. Sherlock did it."
How could that be? Reverse wood might reverse a single episode, but not a full talent. But now they came up to the others, and her confusion was lost amidst the press of explanations.
Only when they were back in the boat and moving across the water did she remember the main thing: "Ciriana! We never made you forget those words!"
"What words?" the child asked innocently.
"The ones you were saying. The bad ones."
"I don't remember them."
"And the secret of summoning the stork."
Ciriana looked blank. "Storks are summoned?"
"You mean you don't remember?"
"Storks are birds, aren't they? I don't know any more about them."
Clio stared at the child, amazed. She must somehow have been dosed with lethe water after all, and had forgotten all the forbidden knowledge. But how could there have been such selectivity, without guidance?
Then a harpy flew over them. "Get away from my territorial waters, you boatful of ^^^^!" she screeched.
The water around them roiled and bubbled with the force of the bad expression. Sherlock and Umlaut frowned, and Surprise's face froze. The only one unaffected was Ciriana. She had not understood the word at all, or perhaps had not even heard it.
The child had not merely forgotten the words and concepts. Her immunity to the Adult Conspiracy had been nullified.
Something was weird. But Clio couldn't figure out quite how. So she let it be, for now.
15
Storm
They reached the edge of the Region of Water, and solid land. They returned the boat. "This is where we get off," Surprise said. "Thanks so much for rescuing us. But what about Ciriana?"
"We need to take her home," Clio said. "She'll fit in there, now."
Sherlock frowned. "These were the folk who stranded her on an island. Regardless of the provocation, should these be considered fit parents?"
That question required no answer. "Where else?" Clio asked.
"Good adoptive parents," Umlaut said.
"And how do we locate these?" Sherlock asked.
"Surprise can use the talent of pointing the right direction for anything. That should show the way."
"I can do that," Surprise agreed. She closed her eyes, turned around, extended one arm, and oriented roughly south. "That way," she said. "I don't know how far; that seems vague. But there are definitely good parents there."
"Look at your compass," Drew said.
Clio looked. The blue arrow was pointing exactly the direction Surprise was. The red arrow was gone.
"It seems we are going that way," Clio said. "We'll take her."
"That's good," Surprise said. "She'll make some family very happy, now that she's lost her curse."
She surely would. "I'm glad we happened by," Clio said. "It would have been a shame to leave Ciriana on that island."
"Well, we'll be on our way," Surprise said. She turned to Umlaut. "Do you think we can find a private place?"
"Well, uh—"
"This time I'll do the searching."
"Okay."
They kissed and disappeared. Surprise was already using more of her magic.
"That's a remarkable girl," Sherlock said.
"Yes. Remind me to tell you her story, when we have time on our hands."
"Tell me her story," Ciriana said.
Clio laughed. "In due course. First we must get started south."
The child started to cloud up. "Maybe just part of it," Sherlock suggested.
That seemed to be a good compromise. "The stork got confused, and by the time it delivered Surprise to her parents, she was five years old—your age. That's why they named her Surprise; she really surprised them."
Ciriana clapped her hands. "My age!" she said, pleased.
"It's a good age," Sherlock said. "They were very glad to have her."
Clio glanced at Sherlock. "I don't want to use the trollway again; for some odd reason I distrust its evening facilities."
Sherlock looked around. "A section of the Water Region is to our south. We may need to borrow the boat again."
"But we don't know how far we are going. We could have trouble returning it."
"Then we may have to walk around the lake."
"Whatever," Clio said, though the notion of an extended walk bothered her. She was getting older every hour, and the daily dangers she faced were getting worse; she needed to get back to Mount Parnassus. But what was there to do except follow the blue arrow?
They started south, and came to a man sitting on a stump. He looked depressed.
"Hello," Clio said.
"Ungh," he replied morosely.
This was not a good sign, but their direction as indicated by the blue arrow seemed to pass right through the man. She doubted it was coincidence. "I am Clio, and these are Sherlock and Ciriana. We are traveling south."
"I am Mister E, and I have no idea where I'm going."
"I can see how that would be depressing. What is your talent?"
"I have no idea."
"So it's a mystery,
" Sherlock murmured. Ciriana laughed.
Mister E—mystery. It was a pun. But rooted in the man's nature; that was why he didn't know much about himself. "Well, come along with us, and maybe we'll figure it out." She never would have issued such an invitation if it were not for the blue arrow and her need to proceed efficiently.
E stood. He was a tall and moderately homely man. "Might as well."
They walked on south. Before long they came to a fork in the road. It was oddly shaped, and there were strange sounds associated with it. Some were melodic, others discordant. They didn't know what to make of it, or which fork to take; both roads went south, parallel to each other.
There was a man sitting at the side. He looked to be just shy of age thirty. Clio approached him. "Hello, I am Clio." She introduced the other members of her party.
"I am Bill," the man said. "You are surely wondering about the fork."
"Yes we are. We are traveling south, but both roads look the same."
"They aren't. Take the right fork; that's the harmonious one. The other is discordant and will lead you to nothing but trouble. It is infested by discord-ants."
"We'll take the right one. Thank you."
"That's what I'm here for."
"But doesn't it get dull, sitting here all day just to advise travelers?"
"Not at all. My girlfriend Elem stops by frequently."
"Elem?"
"Miss Elem N. Tery. Things are always marvelously clear to her."
Clio recognized another pun: elementary. They came thick and fast on the regular paths of Xanth. "I'm sure she's quite something."
They moved on. Ciriana was getting tired, and Clio knew they would have to stop soon, so as not to wear out the child, but she hoped for some better way to travel.
Soon they found another man. This one was busy carving objects of wood. They weren't very good examples of art, but he seemed satisfied. The blue arrow pointed through him also.
"Hello," Clio said.
The new man turned out to be Darron, the twin brother of Darren, about whom she had once written. Darren made one thing into another; Darron endowed inanimate objects with magical properties.
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